Deliciously Bent
by Satiah
Summary: Five drabbles. Eliot and Leo. French lavender twists and extracts of jade.


Prompt: Elliot, Leo; french lavender twists & jade extract; I'm deliciously bent.

... ... ...

Pandora Hearts © Jun Mochizuki

... ... ...

The cellophane wrapper crinkled delightfully between his fingers; the sound was made even more pleasant with the knowledge that Xerxes Break was not around to take the sugary treat away from him. Smirking, Eliot placed the jade-green lollipop on his tongue, closed his eyes, and settled against a tree with nothing better to do than enjoy the warmth of the sunshine on this bright, summer day.

Leo, meanwhile, was stretched out on the grass beside his master, patiently scribbling away at something in his notebook. Occasionally he'd stop and scrutinize his drawing, each time pondering for no more than a handful of seconds before clicking his tongue and resuming his task.

Eliot tried to doze off, but found himself jarred back into wakefulness by the incessant scratching of Leo's pen. Opening his eyes and sitting up in barely concealed frustration, he peered over at his servant. "Oi."

"Yes?" Leo answered, looking at Eliot innocently.

"That's noisy."

"So?"

"Cut it out."

"No."

Eliot sighed as he tried to keep his temper from rising. He didn't particularly enjoy arguing with Leo, but Leo's attitude made it difficult to have a decent conversation. Congratulating himself for not firing back a hasty retort, Eliot instead opted to say nothing as he swung around to lay beside his servant, bullying the smaller boy away from the sketchbook as he leaned over to see what was on it.

"...it's us," Eliot said, blinking in bewilderment.

"Yep."

"Why'd you draw us?"

"Dunno," came the cheerful reply. "I just wanted to."

Eliot stared at the drawing a moment longer before adding, "It's _purple._"

"_Lavender._"

"Whatever."

Leo smiled.

"Why'd you draw us in purple?" Eliot asked.

"Because that's the color I found first."

"No reason?"

"No reason."

"It's not manly," Eliot said. "It's purple, it's sparkly, it's scented, and your drawings are ugly. That scribbly rat-thing doesn't even look like me at all."

"I thought it was rather accurate," Leo replied, face deadpan.

Sighing, Eliot sat up and took the sketchbook with him. Leo frowned at the loss, but said nothing. Stretching up on his tiptoes, Eliot placed the book on a branch of the tree he had formerly been leaning against, making sure it was plenty high enough to be out of Leo's reach.

"That's not fair," Leo said.

Eliot laughed. "Come get it."

The two of them played for hours: laughing, fighting, cursing, laughing some more. Spending the day in the warmth of the summer sun and in each other's company, having nothing better to do than ignore the responsibilities of the Nightray house.

Finally ending up at an old park, they hung together upside-down from the monkey bars like they used to do as children. Leo smiled while Eliot kept a careful eye out for the ground; he had previously hit his head, not realizing how much he had grown since his last visit. Leo tried to do all manner of tricks, but he wasn't as flexible as Eliot, and ended up in a heap more than once. But it didn't matter; hanging, flipping, sitting up: either way, the setting sun found the two of them nothing more than deliciously summer-bent.

... ... ...

Eliot swore with all the hatred he could muster as his face was violently pressed against a dingy alley wall. From behind him, a strong hand gripped a tangled fistful of his hair while another mercilessly twisted his arm behind his back; Eliot saw stars enough to think it was already midnight instead of early evening. His opponent, the infamous Headhunter, leaned in close from behind, careful to keep the last true Nightray in a secure hold; the Headhunter's hot breath ghosted over Eliot's ear, making his skin crawl in disgust.

"You should have stayed home, where you were safe," the voice whispered. "But, no, you had to play hero and come after me yourself."

"You killed my family!" Eliot roared, tears of rage blinding him.

There was a chuckle: dark, dry, and humorless. "They died proud, like all Nightrays; too stubborn to even beg."

Eliot twisted to the side, desperately trying to throw his captor off-balance. The sudden movement only served to give the Headhunter more leverage on the arm pinned between their bodies. Eliot was stuck.

Suddenly, Eliot glimpsed a sheen of white, and the severity of the situation finally dawned in his rage-filled mind. "You're a vampire!" Eliot accused, looking at the Headhunter's glistening fangs in horror.

"No," came the soft reply. "I am a _demon_. There is a difference."

As twin fangs sank into Eliot's exposed neck, Eliot heard a rush of white noise whistle through his mind: the voices of his family. He heard wails and shouts and screams, not for mercy, but for one another. He heard voices loud with terror as they understood this would not be the last kill, that their beloved siblings would come next. That the cycle of killing would perpetuate until the Nightray House was bloodily smeared out of existence, and not even sweet little Eliot would survive. The scent of jade trees filled his memory then, and it soothed away the screams, replacing them with a sense of warmth and serenity. Of peace. It was a smell of comfort; the smell of their home.

_Jade._

_The flower of prosperity. _

_...Fred, Claude, Ernest, Vanessa..._

But, as Eliot remembered his deceased siblings, the screams came back in roiling waves. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block them out, trying to ignore them, and that's when he heard a nearer voice. A softer voice. A familiar voice that began emitting great peals of hysterical laughter as a woman's song flourished in accompaniment.

"And the Queen said: Off with his head, off with his head~!"

_...and now me._

As Eliot's tired eyes began to close, the Headhunter stepped back and let his barely conscious prey fall to the ground. Wiping blood from his chin, he looked to the sky and attempted to discern how much time he had before Eliot's body was discovered. The moon had just begun to rise, and as it illuminated the streets below, its pale light reflected eerily off a formerly white, blood-and-battle-smeared suit; a pair of mirrored lenses; and a sharp, toothy grin so wide it was utterly mad.

Leo effortlessly raised his scythe above his head, but, before delivering its lethal strike, abruptly changed his mind. Chances were in his favor: Eliot was unlikely to survive from their battle. There was no need for a beheading. Lowering the scythe to his side, Leo collected his Chain and artfully hid her within the shadows, preparing his Queen of Hearts for an ambush on the Pandora agents who would flock to the scene of the latest Nightray victim. Before leaving, however, Leo made sure to toss a single sprig of twisted lavender onto his master's pale, shivering body.

_Lavender. _

_The flower of devotion._

_The flower of distrust._

... ... ...

Eliot was certain this was the stupidest game in existence. Straining to keep himself balanced on his aching toes and fingertips took _way_ too much concentration, but he didn't want to fall on Leo and possibly injure the smaller boy beneath him. Grumbling under his breath, Eliot swore to never again allow Leo the luxury of deciding how the two of them were going to spend another boring, rainy afternoon.

It was in the midst of his internal monologue, however, when he caught a whiff of something rather fragrant. "You smell like flowers," Eliot said, surprised.

Leo shifted his weight slightly, careful to neither lose his precarious balance nor bump into Eliot. "I was tending the greenhouse. You're probably smelling the lavender; it needed trimming."

Eliot nodded.

"You smell like jade," Leo said after a moment.

"I was in the gardens," Eliot admitted. "The flowers don't last very long."

"No, they don't."

Eliot would have said something more, but Leo spoke first: "Right foot, blue." Eliot groaned, carefully repositioned his twisted limbs, and tried his best to not lose this round. Although, if he _did_ crash down on his servant again, maybe the mixed aroma of lavender and jade could create a medicinal balm to chase away the throbs of torqued limbs and sprained ankles...?

(No. It most certainly did not.)

... ... ...

"You smell like a tea shop."

"Excuse me?"

"You smell like a tea shop."

Eliot rolled his eyes. "I heard you the first time. What did you mean?"

Leo grinned as he plopped himself onto Eliot's bed, sitting beside his master. Reaching over to the large, unorganized pile of pillows, he selected a particularly fluffy one and brought it closer. "It's different today, isn't it?" he said, clutching the pillow. "Your cologne?"

"Yeah. Vanessa just gave it to me."

Leo leaned back and momentarily disappeared among the battlefield of rumpled and unmade sheets, comforters, and carelessly strewn pillows. He was silent a moment, face serene and contemplative; Eliot couldn't help but think his servant was awfully cute when he _kept his mouth shut_.

"Lavender and jade," Leo said quietly.

"Yeah. Vanessa liked it."

"I do, too. But you smell like a tea shop."

With a growl, Eliot chased a happily laughing Leo throughout the darkened halls of the estate, passing the other bewildered Nightray children along the way. Leo made sure to run outside, slamming all possible doors along the way to slow his master's progress, but Eliot was a trained fighter; his reflexes were sharp and no movement went wasted when he was serious. He caught up quickly.

Grabbing Leo by the arm, Eliot attempted to wrestle his servant to the ground. Leo was still laughing when they fell, crumpling atop Eliot in an awkward, disheveled heap.

"What are you laughing about?" Eliot hissed.

"You. You knew I liked jade. You're quite obvious," Leo replied, amused.

"So?"

"You were trying to get my attention."

"Why?"

"You don't want me making other friends. You're jealous that I talked to Oz."

Eliot scoffed. "Other friends are fine. _He_ is not."

Leo smiled.

A moment passed before Eliot spoke again. "So...did it work?"

Leo smiled at his master, careful to not say a word.

Eliot smiled back, knowing full well how tightly Leo had twisted his arm in this game of theirs. Nothing would separate the two, and they both knew it.

Even without him having to ask.

... ... ...

"I'm deliciously bent."

"What?" Eliot asked, eyebrows rising as his book lowered.

"That's the slogan of the shampoo: deliciously bent."

Eliot wasn't exactly sure what to make of Leo's sudden proclamation, but he figured he'd go along with it, anyway. "What kind of shampoo?" he asked, attempting to further Leo's little game.

"French lavender twist; jade extract."

"Smell good?"

"Want to find out?"

"Sure."

Eliot nonchalantly tossed his book onto the coffee table and stood. Carefully eyeing his smirking servant, he walked over and leaned forward, drawing in a deep breath of the exotic fragrance. He quickly straightened and found himself looking at Leo's delighted face. "It stinks," Eliot bluntly concluded.

"I know," Leo responded, still smiling. "I don't like it either."

"Then why'd you buy it?"

"I liked the slogan."

... ... ...


End file.
